


Robbie Rottenbrandt

by Charming Delinquent (Raven_Ehtar)



Category: LazyTown
Genre: Disguise, Elf Sportacus (LazyTown), Fluff, Gen, Kids in the background, M/M, Robbie Knows, Robbie is a good but ineffective villain, Sportacus Knows
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-19
Updated: 2018-06-19
Packaged: 2019-05-25 11:14:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14975984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raven_Ehtar/pseuds/Charming%20Delinquent
Summary: It takes a lot of planning and preparation in order to be the best villain in the world. Robbie braves the outdoors in order to do some research. When he falls asleep in the shade of a tree, Sportacus can't help but take a peek at what he was working on.





	Robbie Rottenbrandt

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly, I think this was the first LazyTown fic I ever wrote. That was a while ago.

_Today is a good day for some research,_ Robbie decided. 

It was one of those rare days that Robbie actually woke up early and felt completely awake and relatively energetic. He’d been able to fall asleep in his chair after only an hour of tossing and turning, woken up before noon - 11:48, in fact! - and had treated himself for such industriousness with a thick slice of three layer cake, with cookies nested in the icing between the layers. It was a wonderful start to the day, and it was only 1:30. Even the children were being fairly quiet, spending their afternoon in their garden - _blech!_ \- decked out in gloves and wide brimmed hats. The number of songs they had broken into were relatively few, and Robbie had failed to spot Sportadork yet. 

He could try and disrupt the gardening going on, upset the growing of all those vegetables - _ick_ \- and fruits - double _ick_ \- before they were ready to harvest. But he could do that any time. It would be a while before any of that disgusting sportscandy was ready to be eaten - oh god, he should stop thinking about that, he was going to be sick. 

But with no plots requiring his genius attention and several more hours in the day than he was used to, it was a perfect day for some research. He could do that and still have plenty of time to be lazy in front of the TV with bowls of junk food later. 

His day’s activity - for the sake of future villainy - decided on, Robbie slammed his periscope back into place with a suitably evil chuckle. 

His Lair was a glorious mess of all the things that went into the beautifully ticking machine of being a villain. Nuts and bolts and cogs, wrenches and hammers, pins and scissors, blueprints and bolts of fabric, half completed gizmos and half eaten microwave dinners - it all brought a proud little tear to Robbie’s eye when he looked over the riotous pool from which the fruits - _ugh_ \- of his devious plans would be pulled. He pawed through the piles, looking for one particular subsection of the slush. The Lair filled with the slightly discordant music of objects clanking across the floor as Robbie tossed them out of his way. 

“Now where did it go this time…? Sprocket, no. Mallet, no. Chocolate, no- wait, _yes, oomph_ … wires, no. Threads, no. Metallic tassels, when did I get _those…?_ ”

Finally he found what he was looking for - a sketchbook about half the size of his torso, nearly all of its pages already filled with drawings and extra loose pages sticking out. After a little more searching and some more musical tinklings as detritus hit the floor he found a pencil, miraculously with a good point to it. 

“Disguise time!”

In theory he wouldn’t need a disguise for this outing. He had no intention of approaching the kids or anyone else while he was out, but he thought it a good idea to wear one in case he _was_ spotted. It would help to preserve his image as a dastardly villain if he _weren’t_ caught with a sketchbook full of drawings. Besides which, it was disgustingly sunny out there, and his disguise of choice included a swanky pair of sunglasses and a hat. Looking down at himself he grinned wide. 

A perfect disguise, as always. A pair of dark violet, fitted pants, a plaid button down shirt in fuchsia and pink, topped over with a light button up sweater the shade of eggplants. He as a little sad that the disguise necessitated such heavy boots, as they would make his usual method of creeping about more awkward, but sacrifices were always worthwhile when it came to an authentic look. It was tempting to dress up his hat - a fairly plain felt the same shade as the sweater - but he was meant to be inconspicuous, and it wouldn’t do to ruin that when every other part of his disguise subtlety to perfection. 

Disguise in place, sketchbook under one arm, Robbie climbed up the pipe to the outside world.

Putting in the kind of confidant swagger Robbie assumed brilliant artists walked with, he adjusted his shades and headed towards the gardens. Once there, he found a bench which allowed him to observe the kids at their dirt grubbing from a distance, and opened his sketchbook to a blank page. 

In the course of his villainy Robbie had honed his skills as an inventor, mechanic, programmer, schemer, actor, and not the least, tailor. But disguises took more than just an incredibly talented hand wielding a needle and thread. Like machines or particularly involved traps, disguises needed blueprints, and the more detailed and precise they were the better it was for the completed project. So in the interest of creating the best disguises the worlds of villainy and theater had ever been graced with, Robbie took up pencil and paper and worked out his visions in graphite before dedicating them to fabric. As well as the bits and pieces of machines, outfits and food, his Lair was scattered with artist’s sketchpads, loose sheets covered in scribbles and pencils of various lengths. 

In the beginning his drawings had been little more than doodles, dreams of outfits flitting through his young imagination as he sat at his grandfather’s knee, and which his very few sewing skills were completely incapable of realizing at the time. With time, practice and patient instruction from said grandfather, his skills at both art and costumery improved. As his sketches became more elaborate, so too did his disguises, until he could draw such perfectly detailed and realistic depictions that they looked as though they could be lifted straight off of the page. 

It didn’t shock him that he was so talented at drawing. He was a genius, after all, and when a genius turned his attention to something he was bound to master it. And it was only natural to sketch out the clothes the people of Lazy Town wore, as one never knew when the time would come he would have to impersonate one of them. The same held true for their faces, as a disguise did not stop at a shirt and pair of pants. 

That and the drawings looked strange when he left out the faces. 

Robbie spent a good half an hour sketching out the variations of what the kids were wearing for their gardening. It wasn’t much different from their normal clothes in most cases, but there were a few things to note. The kind of broad brimmed straw hat the Pink Girl wore, the unnecessarily fancy gloves Stinky wore, the baggy overalls, complete with patches the Pigtail Girl sported… They were all new pieces to Robbie, so into the book they went. As well as blueprints should he ever wish to recreate any of these outfits, it would provide him with reference should he ever wish to create a new persona of a vegetable grubber. 

He held back a gag at the thought. Seriously, how could anyone eat something so healthy, especially the ones that came right out of the ground? _Uck._

The sound of childish squealing had Robbie look up from a tricky bit of shading. 

Oh, wonderful. The blue Sportatwerp had shown up, sending all the kids into happy, ear splitting fits. As if the day weren’t bright enough, now there was a small sun on the ground with them, his smile enough to blind Robbie even through his shades. 

Robbie waited to see if the Flip-Flop-a-Doop would leave again since there was no one to rescue and nothing terribly energetic was happening to hold his attention. He didn’t leave. In fact he took up two of the little rakes the kids had brought - because of course he needed two - and dug in to help, occasionally moving to a new bed with a series of flips and tumbles. Did he never walk anywhere? Just watching him made Robbie feel even more tired than before. 

Put out, Robbie gathered up his sketchbook and skulked off to a little stand of trees. He could still observe all he wanted from there, but it would be much harder to spot him when he was sitting in the bushes. He felt the extra cover was needed with Sportadoof around. He had an uncanny way of seeing through Robbie’s disguises. The way he would look at Robbie sometimes, he wondered if _any_ of his disguises had _ever_ fooled him. If he didn’t have such confidence in his own genius and skills, he would almost think not. As he was such a talented and smart cookie, however, and his disguises such pieces of perfection, that couldn’t be right. 

It must just be his imagination. 

Once he was comfortable settled in the leaves, Robbie continued to watch the group, his ears straining to catch as much conversation as possible. Whenever the blue elf was with the kids it usually meant something awful was brewing, like a tournament or a game of some noisy, obnoxious sport. If that was on the agenda for the day, then Robbie would have to plan quickly, get back to his Lair and change disguises. 

But no word of the kind came to him. Their talk was actually very bland and banal. Things like new video games, how much candy could now be crammed into a mouth, how long they could expect to wait before they could harvest certain bits of sportscandy - buh. Nothing interesting, just silly chatter. And with much of his line of vision cut off from the brush, it wouldn’t be worth the effort to try and continue to draw. He ought to return to his Lair, crawl into his comfy chair and see if he could nap a little before he got down to the business of some serious trash TV watching. 

He didn’t get up, and he didn’t leave. He sat and watched the colorful group moving in and out among their garden beds, all so happy and chattering. He blamed his immobility on the warm afternoon, how it was sapping all the energy out of his limbs, and making it more bother than it was worth to move. How any of them could stand it he couldn’t guess. Side effects of all that sportscandy, probably. It would shut down anybody’s survival instincts. 

Robbie settled his back against a tree trunk, his eyes still on the gardeners and the one blue blur that occasionally flipped high in to the air. It wasn’t so bad watching them, he decided. It was warm, he was reasonably comfortable with the tree, and it was easy to let his mind just wander, watching Sportacus and the kids…

His eyes drifted closed and the villain began to snore almost immediately.

* * *

As soon as the kids all went back to their homes to wash up and change, Sportacus went across the street to a little cluster of trees and shrubs. Just as he thought, Robbie Rotten was right there, slumped against one of the trees and snoring in a very determined sort of way. 

Sportacus smiled. He had seen the ‘stranger’ on the bench as soon as he’d arrived, and had seen when he’d scuttled off into the laughably small hiding spot. 

It was never very hard to know when he was looking at Robbie Rotten in disguise. His costumes were always very well made, but there was always a certain ‘Robbie-ness’ to Robbie no matter what he wore or how he changed his face that gave him away. His smile was quite distinctive, as was his voice. Or maybe it was just the way he moved. Sportacus had an eye for that sort of thing, and the way Robbie’s body moved was unlike anyone else he had ever met, and impossible to completely hide, no matter how elaborate the disguise he wore. 

Sportacus squatted down beside the sleeping ne’er-do-well, still smiling faintly. It was good to see him resting, even if it was mid-afternoon. He knew Robbie had trouble sleeping, which worried him more than he let on. He wished Robbie would at least try a little of the healthy advice he gave out. It didn’t have to be all of it - he didn’t expect miracles, but even a little might help, and he could feel so much better. It hurt Sportacus when he saw the villain with dark smudges under his eyes, sometimes the same shade as his clothes, and knew that he hadn’t been able to sleep, perhaps for several days. 

His eye fell to a large book lying in the grass beside him. It looked like an artist’s sketchbook. Sportacus’ eyebrows raised. He didn’t know Robbie liked to draw. 

He hesitated a moment before picking up the book. It was Robbie’s, after all. It would be rude to look through someone else’s belongings, even if they insisted that they were your enemy. But on the other hand he was _very_ curious…

A little twist of guilt in his stomach, Sportacus picked up the book and opened it to a random page. 

He gasped loudly enough that Robbie snorted in his sleep, and then snuggled closer to the bark of the tree. One hand over his mouth, Sportacus waited until he was certain the villain was still asleep before he returned his attention to the book. 

The page he had opened to featured an incredibly detailed and realistic composition of Trixie. In pencil, Robbie had brought the young troublemaker to life, from ponytails and freckles to her stained sneakers. What was more, Robbie had chosen to depict her as she was riding a skateboard, mid-jump towards the viewer, a slingshot in her hand and mischievous smile on her face. 

Sportacus stared. Robbie had managed to capture the girl not only in her looks, but her spirit as well, showing her irresponsible attitude and spunk on paper. He glanced at the dozing artist, a little wonderingly. 

He turned the page, and found instead of another portrait, a complex diagram for one of his many traps. Sportacus looked it over, but couldn’t make much sense of the technical drawings and mathematical notes that accompanied them. He turned the page. 

He found that the sketchbook was actually a bit of a visual free for all, holding any and every thought that went through Robbie’s head. There were diagrams, plans, detailed sketches of very specific parts of everyone’s clothes, little doodles that were a cross between diagrams and comics, usually showing one of Robbie’s inventions successfully expelling Sportacus from Lazy Town.

There were also more full portraits. There was Pixel as he was working on his full sized robot for last year’s science faire, cheek smudged with grease and eyes bright. Ziggy running through town, cape flapping behind and arms outstretched in front, grinning wide as he dreamed of being a superhero. Stingy driving about in his car, which was a fancy, full sized car in the drawing, looking out over the town, which was no doubt all his. And Stephanie, on stage and dancing, her face alight as she performed, seeming to move across the page. 

Sportacus looked at Robbie again, a fond smile in place. The drawings were extraordinary, beautiful, and would doubtless shock any and all of their subjects if they ever saw how faithfully they had been drawn. But it spoke of more than just Robbie’s artistic talents. It took more than skill to capture the essence of the subject the way he had. There had to be some care, some _fondness_ for this level of realism. Sportacus had always suspected the self-proclaimed villain actually had a soft spot for them all. 

Still smiling, he turned another page. 

He paused. This one was full of details of Sportacus’ own outfit. His boots, a breakdown of how his pants were put together, several views of his bracers, a detailed look at his “10” pendant and the crystal inside - it looked as though he had been speculating on how it worked, but hadn’t reached any conclusions. There were even some sketches of his backpack and goggles. 

The next page had more details, but not of costume pieces. There were hands in various poses, eyes in different expressions, even a smile or two. They were all familiar, but he couldn’t place them. It looked as though Robbie had just been practicing different elements. 

He turned the page - and stopped. 

There hadn’t been much in the way of himself in Robbie’s book besides the comic doodles. Occasionally it looked as though Robbie had tried to show him in the middle of one of his flips, but those were always unfinished and surrounded by pictures of little sportscandies with circles and lines drawn through them. 

This page was all dedicated to a portrait of him, and it was not what he would have expected if he’d thought about it. It wasn’t a ‘mid-action shot’ as it had been with every other abandoned portrait. Robbie had either caught him or imagined him one of the few times he had been resting. He was seated beside what looked like a pond - the one in the little forest just outside of town, he realized - with a far away, thoughtful expression on his face. He was stripped down to the tank top he wore beneath his usual vest, which lay in a crumpled heap beside him. What caught his attention, however, and made his face heat up in a blush was that Robbie had drawn him without his hat on. His hair, slightly curled and looking damp, hung around his face, falling a little into his eyes. But it couldn’t hide his ears. 

His ears, which Robbie had drawn very carefully, and very accurately, as pointed. 

Sportacus looked at Robbie, who was still snoring away. How long had he known? When had he _seen_ them? Sportacus was careful to keep his hat on at all times, so when had there been a chance? _Had_ he removed his hat when he had been by the pond?

Why hadn’t Robbie used it against him yet in one of his plans?

It didn’t make much sense to Sportacus, but he was grateful Robbie hadn’t said anything about it to anyone else. He looked down at the portrait again, the careful way Robbie had shaded his hair so the dual colors showed, the sense of weight he had giving the resting Sportacus so he looked truly relaxed where he reclined, the delicate hatching to delineate the muscles. Sportacus wasn’t sure his own portrait quite captured the spirit of him the way those of the children had, but there was a quiet attention paid to every part which seemed to ground it even more in reality than any of the others. 

He might have stayed longer, perhaps so long that Robbie would have woken and caught him at his spying, but he heard the kids making their way back, which recalled him to reality. 

Quickly and quietly, Sportacus returned the book to Robbie’s side and hurried to meet the children before they came too close and disturbed the villain from his nap. With a wide grin and promises to play, he led them away from the tree. Robbie deserved to sleep, and Sportacus wanted some more time to think before he had to face him while awake. 

He had the feeling it was going to end up a little awkward for them both.


End file.
